


so hold me close like everything will be okay again

by orphan_account



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst, Break Up, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-07
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-24 11:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2579936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor goes back to Oliver’s apartment after the man tells him not to come back. Of course he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so hold me close like everything will be okay again

Connor goes back to Oliver’s apartment after the man tells him not to come back. Of course he does.

He’s empty handed this time, definitely not wanting to start something in case it’s not Oliver who answers the door.

“I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but I-” Connor starts, sighing and running a hand through his hair. Oliver's gaping at him, his face a mix of confusion and relief all at once. Connor really should have thought this through more.

He opens his mouth to continue fumbling, but Oliver kisses him.

He surges forward with enough force that has Connor knocked up against the door across the hall, lips colliding, all teeth and no love. Not yet.

They break apart, and everything is quiet. Connor breathes in deeply, pressing his forehead against Oliver’s, scrunching his face up like he’s pain because of how much he wants. He doesn’t let himself, though.

“No,” Connor says, and pushes him away. “No, I'm not letting you treat this guy like I treated you.”

Oliver smiles sadly. He keeps his hands on Connor’s hips, keeps their faces close like he can’t possibly break them apart. “He's not you. None of them are.”

“You think I haven't tried myself?” Connor says, shaking his head with a disbelieving, sad smile on his face.

“Now you don't have to try. You're back, and-”

“I was coming to say goodbye,” Connor blurts, shutting him up. “I was coming to say goodbye because I don't deserve you, Oliver,” Connor says, trying to force a smile. “And the truth is that you deserve someone who's going to be there for you. That's never been me; I think we both know that.”

“And if I asked you to stay?”

Oliver's question catches Connor off guard. It's only then that Connor becomes aware of the fact that Oliver's hands are still around his hips. He also realizes that the only thing he wants to do now (and has been wanting to do for weeks) is to throw his arms around Oliver's shoulders and press his face into Oliver's neck. Suddenly, Connor can't breathe with how much he still wants, and he's struggling for something to hold onto, drowning in the color of Oliver's eyes.

“I'd still go,” Connor says, and his windpipe closes up. Oliver breathes in sharply, letting go of his waist. “I'm leaving because I know you're worth more than what I can give you.”

Connor smiles sadly. Oliver doesn't say anything, just looks at him. His gaze flickers between Connor's lips and his eyes, trying to convince him of something Connor already knows to be true.

“I'm so fucking sorry, Ollie,” Connor says, voice cracking as some of the levees break. Oliver doesn't know what to do, so he takes Connor's face in his hands and kisses him again. It's softer this time, Oliver's thumbs stroking over his cheekbones in a way that brings back memories of the first time and the last time and all of the times in between. It's comforting and warm, and it feels like a strange sense of home.

“God, I've missed that,” Connor breathes as they pull apart. Oliver's smile doesn't reach his eyes.

“So have I,” Oliver says, and there's a question within that statement.

It's a question they both know the answer to. The I'm still not staying passes between them; unspoken.

Oliver lets go completely, then. The places where Oliver's fingers wrapped around his hipbones burn, but he know there will be no physical marks to remind Connor of the way he was once there. Never again.

“What's his name?” Connor asks before he walks away.

“Trent,” Oliver says, left hand curved around the doorframe. Connor looks down at his feet as he walks away.

He wishes he hadn't asked.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr; ofthe107th.co.vu


End file.
